


Christmas Lights

by theworldunseen



Series: We could leave the Christmas lights up 'til January [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, F/M, Happy Ending, Mentions of Lannister family but you won't actually see them, No Incest, Pining, Yes I know I wrote a Christmas fic in July
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2020-07-21 04:40:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19996009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theworldunseen/pseuds/theworldunseen
Summary: It's Christmas time again, and Brienne really misses her best friend and former roommate, Jaime. She misses him so much, she even decorates for Christmas, despite her well-known hatred of the holiday. All she can do is put up Christmas lights and hope the love of her life might come home.





	Christmas Lights

**Author's Note:**

> I know it's July, but nothing makes me want Christmas quite like a heatwave,
> 
> The inspiration for this fic is the Ingrid Michaelson song "Christmas Lights," which itself was inspired by "Stranger Things." So here's a fan work based on a fan work.

Brienne couldn’t believe she was putting up Christmas lights. Of her own volition. It was simply unbelievable. If Jaime were there...well Jaime wasn’t there. That’s why she wanted the Christmas lights. 

Brienne Tarth hated Christmas. She had since her mother died, three days before Christmas, when Brienne was just 5. The next year, she and her father had decided to skip the holiday. It was too much without her mom. And then that had turned into their tradition — ignoring Christmas. They were one of those families who ordered Pentoshi and watched horror movies all day and didn’t talk about the things they needed to talk about.

Jaime’s family wasn’t any better at celebrating Christmas. They did it all formal and stiff and stodgy. His father’s decorators and chefs and PA organized it all, and every year Jaime got a new tie as a gift that he had to wear to dinner. 

But this had only made Jaime love Christmas more. He liked all the kitschy, silly, goofy parts. He relished Santa hats and Christmas sweaters and the worst carols. 

He loved decorating gingerbread cookies — he even liked it when Brienne messed them up.

“It has character now,” he said, admiring her gingerbread woman’s broken lines and crooked eyes. 

He loved watching Christmas movies, good ones and bad ones. And terrible ones where the girl fell in love with the boy next door who turned out to be Santa’s son.

He loved picking out a Christmas tree. He loved buying stupid ornaments. And he loved, above all, covering the flat in Christmas lights.

Their first Christmas, Brienne had said to him, “If I knew this place was going to turn into Selfridge’s for one-twelfth of the year, I would’ve moved somewhere else.” Jaime laughed.

“Three things. First, Selfridge’s would never let me hang this many penguin Santas on the tree,” he said, wrapping the lights around his right arm. “Second, it’s mid-November and these aren’t coming down until the first week of January, so it’s definitely more than one-twelfth of the year. Can help me with this?” 

He was trying to hang lights on the bookshelf, which was a slightly difficult task for a guy with one hand. Brienne acquiesced.

“What was the third thing?” she asked as she used a thumb tack to hold the lights down. He smiled up at her, his golden hair practically glowing under the lights.

“You still would’ve moved in here. I’m irresistible.”

And of course he was. But now he was gone.

So that’s why she was taking out the Christmas lights. Because she missed him. She missed him nagging her to watch  _ Love Actually _ and she missed him playing the Muppets Christmas album at all hours of the day and she missed him here in their apartment, which was now just her apartment. He’d said he’d come back. That was May. They both knew he wouldn’t.

If she thought about how it had all started — which she did too often, because now she lived alone and brooding was so easy — it felt impossible.

Brienne had gotten her dream job at Stark Inc. three years ago, so she’d packed up her life and moved to Winterfell, into a tiny, drafty apartment that she was definitely overpaying for, where the landlord was more than a bit of a creep.

She’d met Jaime Lannister her first day at work, also a new hire who wouldn’t leave her alone. At first she thought he was making fun of her. Well, he was, kind of, but one day she realized it was his way of trying to be friends. 

“He  _ likes _ you,” Sansa had said one day, after they ran into him in the lobby, leaving Brienne blushing and a little annoyed. 

“No he doesn’t,” Brienne said. Sansa rolled her eyes.

But he did start joining them for lunch a couple times a week, and sometimes he brought her coffee in the morning, and, once, a very fancy pastry, filled with pistachios, after she’d said she liked pistachios a few weeks earlier. 

And then Brienne’s landlord sold her rundown building to some luxury real estate company from Braavos and she had 30 days to find somewhere else to live. 

“I have an extra room,” Jaime offered when she complained about it during lunch. 

“I couldn’t,” Brienne said, not taking his offer seriously. 

“No, really, my apartment is way too big for one person. I wouldn’t even charge you rent.”

“You’d have to charge me rent.”

He charged her half what she’d been paying before, and she was pretty sure he didn’t even really notice if she paid it or not. He only took it because it made her more comfortable with the situation, which she appreciated. 

And his apartment was way too big for one person. That’s when she’d realized that he was loaded. He owned the apartment. He had a maid, who cleaned her room, too, and he had groceries delivered once a week. He’d silently added Brienne’s favorite things to the order.

And by that first Christmas, when Brienne had lived in Winterfell for almost a year, she realized he’d become one of her best friends. 

And by her second Christmas, she realized she was in love with him and his stupid Christmas decorations and the way he smiled at her when she said, “Fine, we can watch  _ Elf _ again.” 

And by her third Christmas in Winterfell, Jaime was gone. And she missed him.

So she was putting up the Christmas lights. She played a Christmas music playlist she found on YouTube. She pulled the dusty boxes of decorations out of the closet, remembering how she’d had to wrap the strings carefully so Jaime wouldn’t make a mess and accidentally break them. She found the thumbtacks in a plastic container in the cabinet above the stove. She tested all the strands, making sure none of the lights were dead. Miraculously, they all still worked. 

And she slowly and carefully and sacredly decorated the house. She hung lights in the windows and over the bookcases. She wrapped them around the small tree she’d bought outside the grocery store, even though Jaime would’ve said it wasn’t grand enough for Christmas. 

And the whole time she thought  _ Jaime Jaime Jaime _ . 

He wasn’t there, but it felt like he was there. It felt like he’d just slipped out of the room and that any minute he’d come walking back in, his arms full of candy canes or tinsel.

She had extra lights, somehow, so she hung them over her bed, too. And if she hoped that meant Jaime would slip into her dreams, she’d never admit it aloud.

She couldn’t go on like this, she knew. She felt like she was going through a breakup, a breakup of a relationship that didn’t exist.

That would be her New Year’s Resolution, she decided. She would give up Jaime Lannister. She would get rid of all the things that reminded her of him, starting with this apartment.

But not until the New Year. She needed a few more weeks.

***

A few days later, she woke up to a text from Jaime.

“Did you decorate for Christmas yet?”

That was one reason why she felt so dramatic for being sad. It’s not like they weren’t still friends. At first they texted every day, which turned into every couple of days, which turned into every couple of weeks. It wasn’t enough, but it had to be.

After Jaime had been back in King’s Landing a month, he stopped talking about when he’d be coming back, and she stopped asking. 

“Of course I didn’t decorate for Christmas,” she wrote back, feeling herself blushing even though he couldn’t see her. 

“Why not?!” he wrote back right away with a couple of angry emojis.

“You know I don’t do Christmas,” she typed as she rolled out of bed. By the time she was out of the shower, he’d written back.

“You used to with me.”

She sighed and went about her morning routine, putting the kettle on for tea, heating up some boring oatmeal in the microwave. Jaime always made fun of her bland breakfasts — maybe she’d have to find something else to eat every morning, if she couldn’t even eat  _ oatmeal _ without thinking about him.

She finally wrote him back while she was on the bus.

“Only because I was being held hostage by Santa’s number one elf,” she typed out. His response came right away.

“You think I’m Santa’s number one elft?” More emojis — a present, a Christmas tree, a Santa and Mrs. Claus.

“That wasn’t a compliment,” she typed back, rolling her eyes.

“But it was.”

Would she have to block his number on her phone? Maybe he would stop talking to her on his own, when she told him she was moving out of the apartment. He’d see it as some slight to his honor that she wouldn’t want to live there anymore. But how could she keep living there without him?

Sansa invited herself over for dinner after work a week later, so she saw the Christmas decorations. She didn’t comment on them directly, but Brienne felt exposed and vulnerable, which she didn’t like.

While they ate pizza, Sansa gestured to the little tree, which Brienne had thought had a quiet dignity when she bought it. Now she worried it looked sort of sad.

“Is Jaime going to be back by Christmas?” she asked.

“No,” Brienne said, trying her best to seem nonchalant. “I don’t think he’s ever really going to come back.” Sansa frowned at that and Brienne tried not to notice. 

They’d gone over this. Jaime hadn’t been planning on leaving. In fact, they’d been in heavy negotiations about getting a dog just days before he did. (Jaime wanted a big dog named Bear and Brienne didn’t think they had space for a big dog. Jaime thought getting a little dog named Bear was too ridiculous, but Brienne thought the contrast was what would’ve made it clever.)

First his father had called with some vague crisis at his company, trying to lure Jaime into going back. Jaime had hated working there, had hated feeling like everything he had he’d only gotten because he was his father’s son. Jaime said no, but he felt bad about it.

Then he’d gotten a frantic call from his sister, who was going through a terrible divorce. Brienne didn’t know all the details, but she knew Jaime was worried about his sister and his niece and nephews. He started to plan a vacation to visit them for a couple of weeks that summer. He was even thinking about bringing the kids up there for a couple weeks in August.

And then his brother had called, and apparently the whole thing had been a million times worse than anyone had actually told Jaime. Cersei’s ex wanted full custody, she was thousands and thousands of dollars in debt, his father was being investigated by federal prosecutors for fraud, and Tyrion has been formally disowned.

“I’ve just got to help them sort it out,” Jaime said the night before he left. Brienne wanted to say  _ how could you possibly help them sort it out? _ But she knew it wasn’t about that, not really. He just needed to be there, he needed to feel like he was doing something, he needed to support his family. He’d give everything up for his family and it would be inspiring if it also didn’t break Brienne’s heart.

“I’ll be back soon, OK?” he said when they said goodbye the next day, and she didn’t know if he was trying to convince her or him. She only nodded, trying to smile, and then he’d kissed her on the cheek and he was gone.

Sansa suggested they watch one of those weird Netflix Christmas movies, where everyone was secretly royalty and Brienne was too in her head to even object. 

Before she left, Sansa invited Brienne to spend Christmas with the Starks, knowing her friend wouldn’t say yes.

“You know I don’t like Christmas,” Brienne said, and Sansa nodded, pretending the room wasn’t covered in lights.

***

Brienne called her father on Christmas Eve, bright and early. She’d invited him to Winterfell and he’d made some excuse about not getting someone to watch his dogs. He hadn’t invited her to Tarth, which she had anticipated. He was a loving father, in his own way, but not at Christmas. 

Brienne felt like she was going crazy, with no work to do and nowhere to be and everyone she knew out of town or with their own family. She went for a run to burn off some energy, but she kept sliding on the ice and had to cut it short. She went grocery shopping, but the store was so packed and so  _ merry _ she couldn’t stand it very long. She’d order takeout tomorrow after all. She did pick up a package of pre-made sugar cookie dough, but when she got home she found it too depressing to try to make cookies all by herself.

She put on a huge Christmas sweater Jaime had gotten her last Christmas and a pair of plaid boxer shorts and her fluffiest pair of socks and she tried to feel just a little merry, but it didn’t work at all.

Eventually, she settled on the couch with a  _ Lord of the Rings _ marathon, but she couldn’t even really pay attention. Instead, she brooded until she fell asleep, an angry and uncomfortable nap. 

She woke up to her phone ringing. The sun had set, the only light in the room the Christmas lights. Jaime was right — they really were the best.

She found her phone and thought for a moment she imagined the name: Jaime. In seven months, he hadn’t called her once. She almost dropped the call when she answered.

“Hello?”

“Brienne,” he said, his voice setting off butterflies in her chest. Maybe she should hang up, start her New Year’s Resolution right now. 

“Jaime,” she said instead, smiling despite everything.

“Happy Christmas,” he said. She could hear the grin in his voice. “Sorry, did I interrupt something? I should’ve texted —”

“No, no, no,” she said. “I’m just on the couch. Watching  _ Return of the King. _ ”

“Very festive,” Jaime said and she could picture him, smirking at her. She missed him so much.

“You know me,” she said. “After this it’s time for  _ It’s A Wonderful Life. _ ”

“Really?” he said, a little wonder in his voice.

“No, not really!” she said. “I hate Christmas.” She looked guiltily at her little Christmas tree. But Jaime didn’t know what a dirty liar he’d made her. “Wait, shouldn’t you be in the middle of the Lannister Christmas extravaganza?”

He laughed with more than a little bitterness. 

“It’s a long story,” he said, but he didn’t dive into it. “Did you eat dinner yet?”

“No,” she admitted. “I got groceries, but I wasn’t in the mood to cook.”

“I thought you ate Pentoshi on Christmas Eve?” he asked.

“Christmas Day. We just pretend Christmas Eve is any other day.”

“That’s so depressing! Christmas Eve is better than Christmas! It deserves fanfare and carols and an exorbitant amount of takeout.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t keep in her laughter. Before she could think of a response, there was a knock on the door.

“Hold on a second, someone’s at the door,” she said, putting her phone down. Maybe it was carol singers. Just what her bad mood needed — though she wasn’t in quite as bad of a mood now.

She looked through the peephole and couldn’t believe it. In a second the door was open.

“You, you, you — What are you doing here?”

Jaime Lannister was in the doorway, wearing a snow-covered Santa hat, a suitcase behind him, and a huge bag of takeout in his arms.

“Happy Christmas,” he said, his smile lighting up his whole face.

“What are you doing here?!” she said again, unable to think of anything else.

“It’s Christmas, I wanted to be home. I —” He was walking into the apartment and suddenly stopped.

“You liar!” he yelled, putting the food on the counter and looking around. “You did decorate for Christmas!”

She shrugged helplessly, not knowing what to do or say. She felt like she’d been caught. 

“Why?” he asked as he took off his coat, letting it fall to the floor. “Why did you lie?” She saw him take in her Christmas sweater, but at least he didn’t comment on it. She shrugged again.

“Why did you decorate for Christmas, Brienne?” She had missed the way he said her name, like it was … like it was a poem, like it was art. He took a step toward her. She tried to call up every brave particle she had in her body. 

“I missed you,” she choked out. He gave her a sad smile and she wanted to hide. 

“You missed me,” he repeated, looking at her like he was a puzzle he was moments away from solving. She didn’t want him to.

“Yeah, I mean, you — you’re my best friend.” There was a wrinkle on his forehead now, but he didn’t say anything. “Why are you here?”

“I wanted to be home,” he said again, like that made sense. “You decorated for Christmas.”

“You  _ were _ home,” she said. Now she took a step toward him. He shook his head.

“No I wasn’t.” She wanted to laugh. She wanted to cry.

“Jaime,” she said instead. “What are you doing here?”

“Why did you put up the lights?” Why were they stuck in this conversation? Why was he looking at her like that? Why was he here?

There was only one answer that made it all made sense, and maybe it was Christmas or maybe it was the lights or maybe he’d made her watch stupid  _ Love Actually  _ one too many times, but it seemed like it could be the truth. 

“Because I’m in love with you,” she said, finally. It felt like her heart was banging out of her chest, but it also felt like a building had been lifted off her shoulders. She might die right here, but at least her last moments would be with Jaime.

He smiled at her, big and wide and full of Christmas cheer. 

“Really?” he said, and she wanted to punch him. Why did she have to love such an idiot? “You decorated the apartment and put on that ugly sweater and bought a sad little tree because you love me?” 

He was walking toward her.

“Don’t insult my tree,” she said. “He has a lot of pride. And you bought me this sweater!” He rolled his eyes.

“It’s supposed to be ugly. It’s a thing.” He put his hand on her arm. “You really love me?”

“Yes!” she practically shouted. “Why are you here?”

He looked up at her, his eyes shining with something she couldn’t name.

“I missed you,” he said. “I love you,” he said. “I wanted to come home.”

“Jaime,” she said, frustrated by him in the way that always drove him crazy, though she didn’t know it, yet. And she leaned down and he leaned up and their lips smashed together. He snaked his arms around her waist and she pressed her hands against his chest and she could feel his heart hammering underneath her finger tips, and it was maybe the best feeling in the whole world. 

After, they sat on the floor under a blanket and dove into the takeout and he told her everything that had happened in King’s Landing. 

“And the more I gave them, the more they took,” he said. “And I realized it was never going to be enough for them. They’d always need more. But I didn’t care, that’s what I was supposed to be doing.” She squeezed his arm. 

He thoughtfully twisted some noodles on his fork.

“Then yesterday, my Aunt Genna got us all together for a pre-Christmas lunch — you’ll like her, I think.” She silently noted his use of the future tense and felt butterflies again.

“And Genna said to me, ‘It must have been hard for you, giving up your whole life to come back here for them.’ And I realized nobody had said that to me before. In seven months, nobody said they were sorry I had to leave Winterfell. Nobody asked me what I’d given up — who I’d given up.” He nudged her with his thigh and she smiled. “So I decided to come home. If you’d have me.”

“I’m still deciding,” she said and he nudged her again. “Alright, you can stay.”

He leaned over and kissed the top of her head. She had to duck a little to let him. 

“I loved you so long,” he whispered and all she could do was nod. 

“Last Christmas I was in love with you,” she said, rubbing her nose against his forehead.

“Oh I loved you when you moved in,” he said, pulling the blanket tighter around them. Her eyes grew wide.

“Really?” she asked. He nodded. “You’re such an idiot, you —” And, for the first time, but not the last, he silenced her with a kiss.

And later, when they fell asleep in her bed under the Christmas lights, Brienne realized this really, really, really was the best Christmas she’d ever had. 


End file.
